Why an atheist shouldn't take offence when a religious person presents his or her beliefs

Every atheist I know would say that God does not exist. They know what the word 'atheist' means, and they stand by it. If I asked them if God is a fairytale character, they'd probably say yes.

I'm fine with this. I'm all for people making up their minds. I just wish that more people would.

So, God is a fairytale character. This means that he's in the same boat as characters like Pinocchio, Snow White, and, according to Once Upon A Time (and nothing else), Elsa the Snow Queen.

Of course, if God and Pinocchio are interchangeable, then it's fair to say that their values are interchangeable, too. So we could take God's words away from God and attribute them to Pinocchio instead.

Some of Pinocchio's words, values and commands include:
"Love Pinocchio with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind."
"Love your neighbour as yourself."
"Honour your father and mother."
"Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery. Instead, be filled with Pinocchio's spirit."
"In the beginning Pinocchio created the heavens and the earth."
"For Pinocchio will bring every deed into judgement, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil."

Ridiculous, right? Pinocchio isn't even real, let alone a real boy. Living by these words, or even letting myself be affected by them, is tantamount to me crafting a wooden puppet, naming it Pinocchio, and deciding that this puppet wrote a bunch of laws by which man should live, all with his stubby little puppet hand that can't even grip.

In fact, I am so certain that Pinocchio hasn't written a single thing in the history of the world (what with not existing), that if someone approached me with a Pinocchio doll perched on his shoulder and said, "My friend Pinocchio says that you're living a sinful life," I would probably laugh. In any case, I wouldn't care. And the reason I wouldn't care would be based on my absolute certainty that Pinocchio does not exist. Pinocchio is a fairytale character. No doubt this man would be judging my beliefs, but I personally wouldn't be offended.

Whenever someone's judgements personally offend me, it's as a result of one of two things: my own doubts or my own insecurities, and the two are not mutually exclusive. I would argue that this cause and effect relationship applies to everyone.

I might feel insecure if I walked into a corporate building in shorts and a tee shirt and found that everyone else is wearing suits and ties. If those in suits and ties stared at me, I would feel even more insecure. I'd feel this way because, while a part of me believes that people shouldn't care about what I look like, another part of me would be believing that I'm out of place, that I don't fit in, that those staring are silently ridiculing, and that I should probably find the nearest exit before someone decides to say something. This same part of me might even take offence at all the staring.

This compiled feeling of judgement would be based on an insecurity in my belief system regarding my image, caused by an overwhelming and opposing belief (however strong) that anyone who enters a building like this one ought to be dressed in smart attire, and anyone who isn't ought to be shunned. A silly belief, I know.

Of course, it wasn't until this moment that I realised my 'who cares what you wear' beliefs weren't as firm as I'd thought. It was hardly the pairs of judging eyes that caused me to take offence so much as the volatility of my self esteem. It turns out that, regarding personal image, I didn't truly believe what I thought I did.

On the other hand, I'm never offended by someone's judgements when I'm certain that I'm right. If someone approached me and told me that I can't spell, I wouldn't be offended because I know that I can spell quite well, and this knowledge would be stronger than their opinion. I might get frustrated if the person persisted with examples that actually proved my point rather than his, but I wouldn't be offended.

I wouldn't be offended if someone told me to sweep my chimney to make way for Santa this Christmas, either. If I prided myself on the dust-ridden state of my chimney, I might feel sore about this man ordering me, without using much tact, to clean it. But I wouldn't feel offended over the fact that my disbelief in Santa was being judged because I would know that my disbelief in Santa is the correct belief to have.

And I wouldn't be offended if someone told me that Pinocchio created the world, Pinocchio loves me, and Pinocchio has a plan for my life. Even if my way of life was being judged, I wouldn't be offended because Pinocchio is a fairytale character.

To many an Atheist, God is also a fairytale character, and yet the mention of his name stirs offence almost anywhere, as if each person has been personally attacked. Strangely, if the name 'God' was substituted with 'Pinocchio', I highly doubt that we'd get the same results.

Someone, please, tell me what the difference is.

To recap:
1. Pinocchio is a fairytale character. I would not be offended if you told me that he was real.
2. God is a fairytale character. An atheist should not be offended if I tell him that he is real.

Like I said, I'm all for people making up their minds, but anyone who takes offence when their beliefs are challenged - anyone who feels insecure when their way of life is called to question - hasn't.

Either God is a fairytale, or he isn't.

If he is, then there's no reason to be offended when a Christian presents his or her beliefs, because those beliefs are a part of the same fairytale. They're fake. They have nothing to do with real-world morality.

So if a man does get offended or is affected in any way, then my guess is that there's an underlying doubt or insecurity regarding this man's disbelief in God. What he wants to believe (what he claims) doesn't line up with what he might actually believe (how he reacts/taking offence). Two beliefs are conflicting, like mine in that corporate building.

Now, I'm not saying that the condemning stares and scowls were morally just. Those people aren't perfect, either. But people will always believe things that you and I don't believe. When someone's belief is strong enough, he lives by it, and he feels the need to share it with others. Sometimes it's out of passion, sometimes out of love, and sometimes to condemn. Whatever the case, his attitude isn't my problem. My problem lies in what I believe and how I choose to react.

I felt insecure in that building because the stares and the scowls made me second guess my 'wear what you want' belief system. I wasn't as secure in those beliefs as I am about, say, my competence at spelling. In order to avoid taking personal offence, I need to make up my mind about the beliefs regarding my image. In the same way, a lot of atheists need to make up their minds about their beliefs regarding fairytale characters.

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Wacky things we get told to believe, for no real reason

Case One

One rainy day during high school, I was sitting inside, eating my lunch when Jeanne, a fellow student, decided to educate me.

She'd obviously noticed that I'd peeled my banana like any normal person would:

But it wasn't good enough for her. She approached me, placed her hands on her hips and declared, "You're supposed to peel it from the other end." By 'other end', she meant this:

"Why?" I asked.
"Because that's how monkeys do it."
I looked around to find my friends nodding in agreement, the way you'd nod in agreement if Gandalf had spoken. Evidently Jeanne was quite wise. But I simply raised my eyebrows. "Are you a monkey?"
"What? No," she replied. I think she was upset, because she took off.

Sure, there could be actual reasons, such as the fact that it requires less effort, to peel a banana from the other end, but "because that's how monkeys do it" isn't, of itself, a reason to do anything. Why would we want to mimic monkeys? Should we speak like monkeys, too? Why not go one step further and build nests instead of houses because, you know, that's how birds do it?


Case Two

I never believed in Santa or the Tooth Fairy, or even the Easter Bunny. I think, during my early childhood, my parents must have said, "They aren't real. Don't listen to anyone," in super stern tones. Not that it would've mattered. Everyone outgrows these beliefs sooner or later.

Strangely, a lot of people never stop believing the myth that the daddy longlegs is the most venomous spider on the planet (and that its fangs are too small to pierce human flesh).

I consider myself quite a gullible person, which is why it surprises me when I think back to that fateful day on which I too was told to believe the myth, and refused. Despite being only eight years old, my undeveloped capacitors for reasoning somehow deciphered that the claim didn't make any sense.

"Its fangs are too short. Well isn't that convenient?"
"Why is an eight-year-old schoolmate telling me this, and not the news, or my dad, or someone who knows stuff?"
"Why are there zero reports of someone with a cut on their foot standing on a daddy longlegs and subsequently dying?"

All of these questions rummaged through my mind, ransacking the furniture and messing up the carpet. But I knew better than to argue with a classmate who placed his Scrabble letters diagonally across the board, and whose facial expression said, "No matter what you say, I know more than you."

Here's some research to debunk the myth forever:

"Supposedly, daddy longlegs possess extremely powerful poison, but their fangs are too short to penetrate human skin. To find out, [Mythbusters'] Jaime and Adam hunted down a host of daddy longlegs and took them to a spider specialist who could milk out their venom. Next, the spider specialist compared the toxicity of daddy longlegs venom to black widow venom. The red-bellied widow won out, busting the myth.
A microscopic measurement of the long-legged spider's fangs proved their miniscule quarter-millimeter length could puncture human skin, taking a double bite out of the daddy longlegs myth."

Case Three

Several years ago, I was having lunch at a café with some mates. I bought a Coke Zero because... I don't know. "I don't want cancer!" I told myself, which is why I don't know. I think I'd never drank Coke Zero before. Anyway, one of these mates (it might have been Jeanne) said, "Eew! You shouldn't drink that."
"Why not?"
"A chemical in the sweetener is used in embalming liquid!"
I think someone changed the subject, because I never got the chance to say, "And water is used in nuclear power plants. Best not drink that, either."

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The Rulebook for Facebook. Ten things you should never do.

It's something of a virtual garden, this Facebook. Out of the soil we call newsfeed grows fruits, vegetables, flowers and weeds. The weeds are villains, as you will know, strangling every flower of life and substance, capturing every fruit beneath stem and sprout. I try to hide them myself, but the task is no lasting cure, and the routine is growing ever more onerous. Perhaps I should quit this garden altogether. Or… or I could share the following list with the world. Yes. Yes I see it now. This is the cure! Uh, right. Ahem.

You should never…

1. Facebook your problems

You won't get my attention, no matter how vague you are. In fact, you'll get my UN-attention. That is, I will hide you.

2. Send people game requests

Every time I get a game request, I a) block said request, b) consider blocking the requester, and c) think to myself, "I'd rather play a real game." And then I do.

3. Instagram photos of food

Trust me, honey, you ain't gonna make that fried chicken look any less nasty no matter which photo editing programme's ass you worship.

4. Say "Hi" to me (and nothing else) after years of silence

Crickets chirping. Tumbleweed hovering. A vulture squawking. Me ignoring (you).

5. Upload photos of yourself posing in front of a mirror

Look at yourself! Oh wait, you are, all the time. That's admirable.

6. Use a false name

I will likely forget who you are and unfriend you.

7. Ask me why I unfriended you

I might be tempted to use a false name so you can't... oh wait.

8. Write something entirely unrelated to the status under which you're commenting

Status: Bought our first house!

Appropriate comment: Nice!

Inappropriate comment: Did I leave my phone in your car? *hic*

9. Add me even though you've never met me

If you do this, I'll have to go through the tiring process of clicking on your profile, scanning your friends list for any mutual friends, your timeline for anything familiar, and my memory for some past event involving you. After having zero success on all accounts, I'll see that you've added anyone and everyone. Well don't, stranger! It's annoying!

10. Upload a photo of yourself with the caption, "Lol, I'm so ugly" (or some variation that implies the same thing).

Lol, I'm such a noob at grammar. Lol, I don't know the first thing about spelling. Lol, what is English? Lol. WE AREN'T IDIOTS.

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Five words that aren't words but should be. Start saying them.

This list was harder to think up than I anticipated, and not because the non-words are used so scarcely that I'd almost forgotten about them. Anna, a friend who can vouch for me that these non-words should be words, put it nicely when she said,

"The problem is we use them so normal-like, that they aren't stored in our heads as weirdly words."

Just so; I hope they become stored in your heads as nothing less than funtastic.

Trouché

Trou∙ché

Exclamation

Used to acknowledge taking a 'hit' (as in the word touché), only that the hit was also true. A combination of touché and true.

1.         "Aah! My house is on fire!"

            "That's probably because you left the oven on."

            "Trouché."

Goog/Googs

Verb or Noun

An abbreviation for Google.

Examples:

1.         "I'm bored. How long does it take for the fire truck to get here?"

            "I dunno, why don't you Goog it?"

2.         After using Google to find the answer to your question: "Thanks Googs!"

Possibtentially

Poss∙ib∙ten∙tial∙ly

Adverb

Both able to be done and possible. A combination of possibly and potentially.

Synonyms

Proboplausibly

Examples:

1.         "Do you think Mister Muggles is still alive?"

            "Possibtentially."

Zactlo

Zact∙lo

Adverb

The alien term for exactly. It's also more fun to use.

Examples:

1.         "Mister Muggles has an acute sense for danger."

            "Yeah. Plus it wasn't like I put him in the oven."

            "Zactlo!"

Hugify

Hug∙i∙fy

Expression or verb

Used upon magically making something bigger than its ordinary size, that is, after hugifying an object or person. The exact duration of hugification is irrelevant.

Examples:

1.         "Oh look, here comes the fire truck."

            "Hugify!"

            "Huh? Whoa! You just supersized that truck! How did you do that?"

            You smile knowingly. "I'm a wizard."

            "Couldn't you use your magic to extinguish the flames?"

            A lengthy pause. "Trouché."

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Does Grammar really Matter?

Grammar and Punctuation¹: a volatile blend of simplicity and complexity. Simple in purpose, yet horrendously difficult to master. Each one of us knows what the term means - it isn't rocket science - but when it comes to hearing its application, I oftentimes close my eyes, picturing a cave occupied by men and women. They wear the skins of primitive beasts, and their tools are a collection of stones and bones. Fittingly, like the mammoth they slew and from whose bones they procured, grammar and punctuation is too great a beast to simply tame. It must be laid to rest.

Forsooth, some say that grammar doesn't matter; that it is an old-fashioned mix of arbitrary rules belonging to a minority who refuses to adapt; that those who claim to be well-versed are all compensating for things of actual significance that they lack; or that it is only relevant in some situations, like during a job interview or an exam.²

Such claims are bold, but they are no bolder than the ones proclaimed from those who hold a different view. Indeed, some would go so far as to say that grammar and punctuation might be the Achilles heel of today's Western society.

To those who uphold the former-most view, that language is changing, and that we ought to change with it: I agree. Language is always changing, much like fashion. Yet, no matter the fashion, there are standards; and in every instance, there is a scale ranging from inappropriate to over-dressed, with just right sitting in the middle. It is the same with grammar. There are standards, even today - standards that many people would rather do away with. I might want to wear shorts and a tee shirt instead of a suit to my wedding, but you would all gawk at me (or not attend) if I actually did. Likewise, I gawk at the eight out of ten native English-speaking people who can't differentiate 'have' from 'of'.

Granted, this comparison fails to shed any light as to why grammar and punctuation matters in the strictest sense of the word, and it even appears to support the claim that grammar is only important in some situations, like during a job interview or an exam. Perhaps that is because this claim is spot on. Just like most things, finely-tuned grammar only truly matters when its counterpart, poor grammar, bears unwanted consequences. Applying sun block at the beach matters because, if I don't, I'll get burnt. Correctly-punctuated writing matters in an exam because the alternative is to lose marks. Following is a spam email I recently received.

------------------

T-Mobile Nederland BV
Waldorpstraat 60,
2521 CC Den Haag,
The Netherlands.
online-client service.

CONGRATULATION!

From T-mobile NL we are proud to inform you that your email address have
won you 850,000.00euros from our online anual coordination.

Chose an option which you will like to receive your winnings presenting
along side your winning reff number: NL/VV5-421/0031012.

(1). Come to the Redemption centre here in the Netherlands.
(2). On-line Bank Transfer
(3). Courier Delivery service

Congratulations once again.
Regards,
Robijn van-kloose.
Award Coordinator for T-mobile NL

------------------

A sore thumb is a grave understatement in illustrating just how jarring this email is to anyone with half a brain. Indeed, it is completely submerged in discrepancy. You might have noticed that the word in capitals is missing a letter. Just one letter of a fifteen-letter word, yet we all notice it, and I'm sure we would all agree that it is unacceptable. Even with the 'S', the word itself, capitalised to grab the reader's attention, is a tell-tale sign of spam, yet the typo (I'll give them that much) is icing on the cake. Then there are 99 others. You see, even if I would have been so easily fooled, this one slip up is the ultimate sacrifice of credibility.

Credibility. It matters.

Things that uphold credibility: research, enthusiasm, confidence, good grammar.

If you can't back up a claim, prepare to be criticised. If your tone is dry and stale, prepare to be ignored. If you sound as confused as the people you're trying to instruct, prepare to be questioned. If your grammar is atrocious, then you can forget about everything else; you're going in the spam folder! Essentially, in all cases where you want to be taken seriously, strong grammar and punctuation strictly does matter.

via cheezburger.com

But what about in all other cases? Does grammar matter on Facebook, on Skype, or in casual emails? Your first response might be: no, it doesn't. You have nothing to prove on these mediums; you type like you talk; and there is no reason to put any effort into it. Fair enough, I say. And once again, I completely agree. In fact, I see no need to comment on the structure of someone's imperfect Facebook status when there isn't any pressing reason for them to write it correctly. If everyone understands it, and it makes sense, then that's all that matters. My hope is that, in cases where grammar does matter, they know what to do, and they'll get it right.

There is a difference, however, between a man who knows better but simply doesn't care, and a man who strives to get his grammar and punctuation correct, yet falters at the last word. My view is that everyone is innocent until proven guilty. In other words, it's only when there's a genuine mistake that I consider addressing the author. In such a case, my train of thought plays something like this: "If John has made a grammatical mistake despite making an effort not to, then he is likely to make the same mistake at a later time when it may prove detrimental." What is the next step upon this realisation? Do I point out the food caught between his teeth, or do I leave it unnoticed, hoping that he won't be too embarrassed when he eventually gets given a mirror?

In essence, grammar and punctuation on mediums like Facebook doesn't matter, or at least it wouldn't matter if these social mediums were the be all and end all of communication. But they aren't. Eventually, you will write something - a report, an essay, a personal statement - in which your understanding of grammar and punctuation will be your backbone. A good performance requires practice. Whether or not your grasp of English needs a polish is entirely up to you. Perhaps you know it well enough; but when it comes down to it, will you know where to place the apostrophe, if any? Should there be a comma before the quotation, or not? And can you properly distinguish its and it's, or there, their and they're? Your lecturer can. Your employer can. If you can't, then teach yourself. Google it, learn it, then practise it. 

Facebook, text, email - they might not matter right now, but they will matter when it's too late. For the sake of a job interview or exam, it's not unheard of to, you know, prepare.

For those times where grammar and punctuation strictly matters, every other instance may or may not matter in retrospect. It is your call to make. But it's all part of a constitution, and governing that constitution is a language that probably stems from your childhood. Do you remember? You learned a 26-letter alphabet, and you came to appreciate 26, not 25, distinct characters as the building blocks for communication. Today, not once do you forget one and replace it with more of the others. You accepted the whole package. It was either that, or nothing at all. Creating your own language, choosing your own rules, it doesn't work. You speak English, a constitution complete with standards and guidelines. Typing "your" when you mean "you're" is like spelling CONGRATULATIONS without the S. It's incomplete and, quite frankly, irresponsible. This, my friends, is why grammar and punctuation matters. It's the same reason the letter 'S' matters in the English alphabet. Forget everything else. You can punctuate and spell how you like on Facebook; you can rebel against your employers with a typo-ridden resume; but you can't then call it English. English has 26 letters; it has spelling and grammar rules; and it has punctuation marks.

If you say "should of" or "yous" or "Some-think", then by all means, keep saying these things. I trust you of all people are the smartest of us all, for your grasp of language is so firm that you feel confident to play with it, as if the tendon above the heel bears no limit to its stretch.

----------------

1. As both nouns are part of the same constitution, I'm treating them as a single term. For instance, "Parks and Recreation" IS a TV program.

2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7E-aoXLZGY I love this!

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Stop taking pictures of everyday food and putting them on Facebook

"You spent twenty minutes putting some ingredients together so you could feed yourself. How innovative!"

"All this time I thought you were anorexic. Glad that's not the case."

"You went shopping, bought a steak and cooked it? Please, allow me to bow down to the sheer excitement that is your life!"

These are the kinds of thoughts that run through my mind when I see a photo of food someone's so eagerly dumped onto Facebook. And I don't mean nice, fancy, this-took-me-three-hours-to-make-and-there-were-several-times-I-expected-it-to-fail food; not even funny, pretty or generally cool food, like ninjabread men. (These I appreciate. Facebook needs an achievement system for such spectacles of art).

I'm referring to those plain bowls of I-made-two-minute-noodles-and-everyone-needs-to-know-about-it. Here's an illustration of just how revolutionary they really are.

Who knew?

In any case, the above thoughts are quickly pushed aside in the light of one simple question. Why?

Why do you feel the need to share that your boiled egg is white and not, in fact, purple? Why do I need to know that you had dinner? Are you implying that you go hungry every night you don't upload a photo?

Did you kill the cow to which that slab of steak belonged? No? Then why?

Regardless of this unanswered question, these photos still manage to garner a few likes. Heck, even I've considered liking one on occasion: "Jenny always acts like a robot. I was beginning to think she was one. But now that I know she eats food, I guess she's human after all. This deserves a like." Heh, not quite. Jenny limits her food photos to those of high presentation and quality, regardless of her robotic characteristics. Thumbs up, Jennifer!

There's a reason I don't take a picture of my meat pie that took exactly three minutes to microwave; I can't see why anyone would care. So next time you think to upload a photo of food, think again. Is it the best pie you've ever had? Does this mark the first time you've ever eaten meat? Is your pie full of cockroaches instead of mince? Did you think Facebook was some massive cooking blog that's gone insanely off topic? If your answer's no to all of these, then please, spare me the 110kb and keep your pie to yourself.

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Totes, I say

“Totes!”

“Totes? Did you just say totes!?”

“Yeah, did I offend you? Haha.”

“‘Totes’ is a terrible abbreviation and should be reserved strictly for sarcasm. In my books, ‘totally’ and ‘totes’ are not synonymous.”

“What’s ‘synonymous’?”

“Oh dear.”

Recently added to the standard list of abbrevs, ‘totes’ is defs not very presh!

I first heard it used a couple of years ago. In a conversation with a friend of a friend, I casually asked, “Are you glad to be back?”

With a flick of the hair and a stumble of the high heel, she replied, “TOTES!” 
I stood petrified, and not because of her lisp. It took me a moment to work out what this monstrous abbreviation stood for. And when I did, the connotation was violently ingrained in my mind.

If you’re anything like me, you can understand how gross the word, like almost all other abbreviations of its kind, sounds. It succeeds in doing the unnecessary job in chopping one syllable off a three-syllable word, but it makes the speaker sound horribly uneducated. It’s like blurting out “Bah!” not with the intention of impersonating a sheep, but simply to add your two cents.

I know I’m not alone in this world. Anna, an angel sent from heaven to help me smite the world of its poor grammar, agrees with me. She recently revealed that the word we seek to destroy is, in fact, its very own weakness. In order for it to destroy itself, we (Anna, those of you who care, and I) must become wielders of the word and master it. But unlike the heathens who use it with as much fervour as they would ‘loathe’, our job is to be perpetually conscious for when the word ought to be used. Sarcasm. 

Sarcasm is the key.

Pretend you’re a guy who hasn’t shaved in a while and you’re meeting up with a friend.

“When was the last time you shaved?” he asks.

“This morning,” you reply through the coarse tendrils of your beard.

“Re-really?”

“Totes!”

See what you’ve done? You’ve appealed to his folly. Not all people are as gullible; most would probably reply, “No, seriously, take my hedge trimmers.” But for those who don’t, sarcasm is called. If you strictly use ‘totes’ in such contexts, they’ll learn that you only say it when you’re being sarcastic. And if you’re fortunate, it’ll rub off on them.

Conversely, the recipient of your sarcasm may in fact share your hatred for the word. Thus, using ‘totes’ in this way will spark a warm conversation about how stupid it sounds, after which you will have discovered another member in the legion of Totes (God-willing, poor grammar) Haters. It’s a win-win situation.

It is imperative to note, however, that ‘totes’ cannot be used at just any time where sarcasm is called. In the case above, the fool asking you when you last shaved is asking a serious question. The blatant sarcasm begins, and must always begin, from you with the word ‘totes’. Naturally, ‘totes’ is transformed from the absurd abbreviation for ‘totally’ into a light-hearted insult while justly undermining the integrity of the word itself, as well as its heathen hosts, all in the hope that they will see the error of their ways and repent. 

Let us all unite to repair the sundered veil which separates light from darkness!

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